LETTER LXIX.

From Dr Swift.

Dublin, July 8. 1733.

Muft condole with you for the lofs of Mrs Pope, of whofe death the papers have been full*. But I would rather rejoice with you, becaufe, if any circumftances can make the death of a dear parent and friend a fubject for joy, you have them all. She died in an extreme old age, without pain, under the care of the most dutiful fon that I have ever known or heard of, which is a felicity not happening to one in a million. The worst effect of her death falls upon me; and fo much the worfe, becaufe I expected aliquis damno ufus in illo, that it would be followed by making me and this kingdom happy with your prefence. But I am told, to my great misfortune, that a very convenient offer happening, you waved the invitation preffed on you, alledging the fear you had of being killed here with eating and drinking. By which I find, that you have given fome credit to a notion, of our great plenty and hofpitality. It is true, our meat and wine is cheaper here, as it is always in the poorest countries, because there is no money to pay for them. I believe there are not in this whole city three gentlemen out of employment, who are able to give entertainments once a month. Thofe who are in employments of church or ftate, are three parts in four from England, and amount to little more than a dozen: thofe indeed may once or twice invité · their friends, or any person of diftinction that makes à voyage hither. All my acquaintance tell me, they know not above three families where they can occa fionally dine in a whole year. Dr Delany is the only gentleman I know, who keeps one certain day in the week to entertain feven or eight friends at dinner, and to pass the evening; where there is nothing of excefs, either in eating or drinking. Our old friend Southern (who hath just left us) was invited to dinner once or twice by a judge, a bishop, or a commiffioner of the

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Mrs Pope died June 7. 1733, aged 93.

revenues

revenues; but most frequented a few particular friends, and chiefly the Doctor, who is eafy in his fortune, and very hofpitable. The conveniencies of taking the air, winter or fummer, do far exceed those in London. For the two large ftrands just at two ends of the town, are as firm and dry in winter as in fummer. There are at least fix or eight gentlemen of fenfe, learning, goodhumour, and tafte, able and defirous to please you; and orderly females, fome of the better fort, to take care of you. These were the motives that I have frequently made ufe of to entice you hither. And there would be no failure among the best people here, of any honours that could be done you. As to myfelf, I declare, my health is fo uncertain that I dare not venture amongst you at prefent. I hate the thoughts of London: where I am not rich enough to live otherwife than by fhifting, which is now too late. Neither can I have conveniencies in the country for three horses and two fervants, and many others, which I have here at hand. I am one of the governors of all the hackney-coaches, carts, and carriages round this town; who dare not infult me, like your rafcally wagg ners or coachmen, but give me the way: there one lord or 'fquire for a hundred of yours, to turn me out of the road, or run over me with their coaches and fix. Thus I make fome advantage of the public poverty; and give you the reafons for what I once writ, why I chufe to be a freeman among flaves, rather than a flave among freemen. Then I walk the streets in peace without being juftled, nor ever without a thousand bleffings from my friends the vulgar. I am Lord Mayor of 120 houfes, I am abfolute lord of the greatest cathedral in the kingdom, am at peace with the neighbouring princes, the Lord Mayor of the city, and the Archbishop of Dublin; only the latter, like the King of France, fometimes attempts incroachments on my dominions, as old Lewis did upon Lorrain. In the midst of this raillery, I can tell you, with feriousness, that these advantages contribute to my eafe, and therefore I value them. And in one part of your letter relating to my Lord B-and yourself, you agree with me entirely, about the indifference, the love of quiet, the care of health, &c. that grow upon men in years.

nor is

And

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And if you difcover thofe inclinations in my Lord and yourself, what can you expect from me, whofe health is fo precarious and yet, at your or his time of life, I could have leaped over the moon.

I

LETTER LXX.

Sept. 1. 1733-

Have every day wished to write to you, to fay at thousand things; and yet, I think, I fhould not have writ to you now, if I was not fick of writing any thing, fick of myself, and (what is worfe) fick of my friends too. The world is become too bufy for me; every body is fo concerned for the public, that all pri vate enjoyments are loft or difrelifhed. I write more to fhew you I am tired of this life, than to tell you any thing relating to it. I live as I did, I think as I did,. I love you as I did but all these are to no purpose; the world will not live, think, or love, as I do. I am troubled for, and vexed at all my friends by turns. Here are fome whom you love, and who love you; yet they receive.no proofs of that affection from you, and they give none of it to you. There is a great gulf between. In earnest, I would go a thousand miles by land to fee you, but the fea I dread. My ailments are fuch, that I really believe a fea fick nefs(confidering the oppreffion of colical pains, and the great weaknefs of my breast) would kill me: and if I did not die of that, I must of the exceffive eating and drinking of your hofpitable town, and the exceffive flattery of your most poetical country.. I hate to be crammed, either way. Let your hungry poets and your rhyming poets digeft -it, I cannot. I like much better to be abused and halfftarved, than to be fo over praifed and over-fed. Drown Ireland! for having caught you, and for having kept you. I only refervera little charity for her, for knowing your value, and efteeming you. You are the only patriot I know, who is not hated for ferving his country. The man who drew your character, and printed it here, was not much in the wrong in many things he fard of you: yet he was a very impertinent fellow, for fay

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ing them in words quite different from those you had yourself employed before on the fame fubject: for furely to alter your words is to prejudice them; and I have been told, that a man himself can hardly fay the fame thing twice over with equal happiness; nature is fo much a better thing than artifice.

I have written nothing this year. It is no affectation to tell you, my mother's lofs has turned my frame of thinking. The habit of a whole life is a ftronger thing than all the reason in the world. I know I ought to be eafy, and to be free; but I am dejected, I am confined: my whole amufement is in reviewing my paft life, not in laying plans for my future. I wish you cared as little for popular applaufe as I; as little for any nation, în contradiftinction to others, as I: and then I fancy, you that are not afraid of the fea, you that are a ftronger man at fixty than ever I was at twenty, would come and fee feveral people, who are (at laft), like the primi tive Chriftians, of one foul and of one mind. The day is come, which I haye often wished, but never thought to fee; when every mortal that I efteem, is of the fame fentiment in politics and in religion.

ADIEU. All you love are yours; but all are busy, except (dear Sir) your fincere friend.

I

LETTER LXXL

Jan. 6. 1734

Never think of you, and can never write to you, now, without drawing many of thofe fhort fighs of which we have formerly talked. The reflection both of the friends we have been deprived of by death, and of those from whom we are separated almoft as eternally by abfence, checks me to that degree, that it takes away, in a manner, the pleafure (which yet I feel very fenfibly too) of thinking I am now converfing with you. You have been filent to me as to your works; whether thofe printed here are, or are not genuine. But one, I am fure, is yours; and your method of concealing yourself, puts me in mind of the Indian bird I have read of, who hides his head in a hole, while all his feathers

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and tail stick out. You'll have immediately by feveral franks (even before it is here published) my epistle to Lord Cobham, part of my opus magnum, and the last Effay on Man; both which, I conclude, will be grateful to your bookfeller, on whom you please to bestow them fo early. There is a woman's war declared against me by a certain Lord; his weapons are the fame which women and children use, a pin to scratch, and a fquirt to befpatter. I writ a fort of anfwer; but was alhamed to enter the lifts with him, and after fhewing it to fome people, fuppreffed it: otherwise it was fuch as was worthy of him, and worthy of me. I was threeweeks this autumn with Lord Peterborow; who rejoicesin your doings, and always fpeaks with the greatest affection of you. I need not tell you who else do the fame; you may be fure almost all thofe whom I ever fee, or defire to fee. I wonder not that B paid you no fort of civility while he was in Ireland; he is too much a half-wit to love a true wit; and too much half honest, to esteem any entire merit. I hope and think he hates me too, and I will do my best to make him: he is fo infupportably infolent in his civility to me, when he meets me at one third place, that I muft affront him to be rid of it. That ftrict neutrality as to public parties, which I have conftantly obferved in all my writings, I think gives me the more title to attack fuch men, as flander and belye my character in private, to thofe who know me not. Yet even this is a liberty I will never take, unless at the fame time they are pefts of private fociety, or mischievous members of the public; that is to fay, unless they are enemies to all men, as well as to me. -Pray write to me when you can. If ever. I can come to you, I will: if not, may Providence be our friend and our guard thro' this fimple world, where no thing is valuable but fenfe and friendship Adieu, dear Sir; may health attend your years, and then may many years be added to you.

P. S. I am juft now told, a very curious lady intends to write to you to pump you about fome poems faid to be yours. Pray tell her, that you have not anfwered me on the fame queftions, and that I fhall take it as a